


The Marauders and the Shrieking Shack

by Saturn5



Series: The Marauders [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Novella, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn5/pseuds/Saturn5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The SECOND book of the Marauders series. James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin tip-toe around the idea of the newly haunted Shrieking Shack. The year is filled with Whomping Willows, hands-on Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and headaches for Professor McGonagall, but that doesn't stop the Marauders from uncovering a dark secret someone seems to be trying very hard to hide. (2/7 books)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tandy Valley News

The little village of Tandy was made up of a collection of farms nestled in the valley just below Ottery St. Catchpole. The area was a wide expanse and each of the five farming families who lived in the area grew completely different things. There was Mr. Allsopp, a short widower, who knew everything there was to know about peas and beans. Next to him, lived the Deering family—three children, one mother—who made a fortune off of selling wheat, but kept mostly to themselves and never spent a cent more than they had to. Across the river, the Hackett and Northrop families had a fierce rivalry over who could sell the most produce in a season until two children from each side fell in love and the marriage between sugar beets and potatoes had never been sweeter.  
The biggest farm, nearly twice the size of the Hackett and Northrop farms combined, sat a little further off than all of the others and no one quite knew what they grew, except that whatever it was, it was making them filthy rich. The main building on the farm could not be described as anything else but a mansion and the workers often showed up dressed in very funny overalls, wearing scaly gloves. This farm belonged to the Potters, the strangest family in Tandy Valley.  
If anyone asked Podric Potter what his crops were, he’d simply grin and tap his nose curiously. By then, the other four families ad largely assumed they were growing something illegal, but when the policemen went round to investigate they were all adamant that nothing was askew. Something was different about their farm, but whenever an Allsopp, Deering, Hackett or Northrop went to inspect it more closely, they suddenly remembered that they had a roast in the oven, or a burst water pipe and hurried off.  
“There goes that Deering kid again,” Mr. Potter peered through the curtains with a gentle chuckle, “Doesn’t give up, does he?”  
“You should probably renew the charms, Podric,” his wife reminded him, putting a large steaming pot of Bouncing Bulb Stew on the table.  
“I will, I will,” he sighed and then looked around, “James is still outside?”  
Mrs. Potter gave her husband a sarcastic look and he knew the answer to be yes. It was difficult to know whether their son had been inside for long than half an hour since he came home from his boarding school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
The Potters weren’t growing anything illegal, just magical because as it so happened Podric and Grace Potter were wizards. And the non-magical folk, the Muggles, were best kept in the dark about Bouncing Bulbs, Fanged Geranium and Pungous Onions.  
Mrs. Potter made her way to the open back door in the kitchen and peeked out of it. She had to tuck the wispy grey hair behind her ears to keep it from whipping about in the chilled Autumn wind.  
“JAMES POTTER!” she yelled despite having no idea where he was.  
A loud swooshing noise passed her and her son was sitting on a flying broom upside down, with an expectant grin on his face, much like his father’s. His black hair was sticking up at the back from all the flying around and he did nothing to fix it.  
“Yes, Mum?”  
“You haven’t been flying too high, have you?” she raised an eyebrow, “Brandon was just here trying to sneak a look about the place.”  
“Mum, how am I supposed to practice the Wronski Feint if I can’t go high?” he moaned.  
She rolled her eyes and then pinched his cheek affectionately, “Where did we get you, huh? Come on. Wash up. Supper’s ready.”  
Grudgingly, he dismounted his broom and leaned it against the door post. He was going to eat as fast as he could so that he could get back to practicing for his Quidditch trial coming up in a couple of weeks time, but he stopped short when he saw a letter on the table addressed to him.  
“James, wash your hands first,” his mother warned him, “Letter later.”  
“Can’t you just…?” he made his eyes big and pleading.  
She sighed heavily, grabbing her wand from the counter and pointed it his open palms. The dirt disappeared off of them immediately. He sat down with a mumbled thank you and began ripping the letter open. He recognized the incredibly neat handwriting. He didn’t need a name to know who it was.  
“That was the last time,” she said, knowing that it probably wasn’t.  
“I promise, Mum,” he said absent-mindedly as he read.

‘Jam Pot,

We’re going to Diagon Alley on Thursday! I swear if you don’t come I will turn your ears into leeks. By the way, is your mum still mad about you hiding me in the pantry? Tell her that I’m sorry. Again.

His Royal Highness,  
Archibald the Mighty

P.S. Pettigrew said he was going to be there too. Not sure about Remus, but I did write to tell him.’

He giggled as he folded up the letter and then looked at his father.  
“Dad, can we go get my school stuff tomorrow?” he begged, “Sirius is going to be there. Oh, he says sorry again, Mum.”  
Mrs. Potter only shook her head with an exasperated look on her face, “He’s always welcome here. Just TELL me next time so that I know what to expect when I open a cupboard.”  
“Only if you eat all your food tonight,” his dad replied to James question, lighting his pipe, “I didn’t slave over a hot stove for you to run back outside in ten minutes.”  
“Fine. Deal,” James grinned.  
He had managed to see Sirius Black, his best friend, four times over the holiday, but still was more excited than he had been when he watched his very first Quidditch match. Peter had only stopped by once, and with his parents too, which made Mrs. Potter very uncomfortable trying to entertain his stiff-spined mother. The only one of his best friends that he hadn’t heard from was Remus Lupin, who despite promising to both write and visit, did neither. James’s father consoled him by telling him that every friend group had a Disappearing Act and if Remus was anything like James had described him, he was probably missing him just as much.  
“Aw, Bouncing Bulbs again?” James whined, noticing the pot jumping up a little bit, “We had this yesterday.”  
“And we’re having it today,” affirmed Mrs. Potter.  
“No Bouncing Bulbs, no Sirius,” his father warned.  
He got up urgently and strode to the kitchen, “Where’s my plate?”  
There was no way he was missing going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. He searched the cupboards and noisily pried a plate from under another.  
“Hello,” he looked down at the Daily Prophet.  
The newspaper was lying carelessly on the counter, folded so that only the main headline could be read: ‘HAUNTING IN HOGSMEADE’. James set the plate down to unravel the paper. It was an article about a small shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade that was rumoured to be haunted after several witches and wizards came forward, saying they heard the most terrifying screams coming from the building starting late last year. Even the reputable Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, claimed that he believed several violent spirits had taken up residence in the shack. Upon recent investigation, Non-Human Spirituous Apparition expert, Lyall Lupin, declared the shack extremely dangerous and advised all to stay away from it.  
“James?” he heard his dad call.  
“Coming.”  
He wondered what Remus knew about the shack. His dad always told him about the jobs he had to do and in all honesty, James just really wanted the full behind-the-scenes of a real haunted building. He had met the ghosts of Hogwarts, but they weren’t all that scary. The Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s House ghost, was maybe intimidating at most, but he didn’t make James run screaming the other way. Violent spirits sounded like something pretty neat. Maybe he would trick that annoying Lily Evans into going with him, just to scare her.  
Mental note: Tell Sirius about the shack.  
Her tucked the plate under his arm and headed back to the table to dish a heaping pile of stew onto his plate. The size of the pot made it look like the Potters were expecting guests, but it was actually because James was their son. He scooped up a huge spoonful and put it into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge.  
“Delicious, Podric,” his wife hummed, “James?”  
“Yeah, it’s good, Dad,” he squashed another bite into his mouth despite not having swallowed yet, “Is there dessert?”  
“Treacle tart,” Mrs. Potter said, “Your favourite, Honey.”  
He punched the air excitedly, and after a three more helpings of Bouncing Bulb Stew and some dessert, James was passed out on the couch so that his father had to levitate him to bed. Grace tucked him into bed and kissed him gently on the forehead.  
“Good night, Honey,” she whispered, “Last week before Hogwarts. I know you’re counting the nights.”  
He nodded sleepily.  
They were past reminding him to behave. His parents were once students at Hogwarts and notorious pranksters as well. It was difficult to beat something like a sense of humour from a bloodline. Even though they scolded James for three days after Professor McGonagall had sent him and Sirius home for pulling their pants down in front of the whole House of Ravenclaw, they couldn’t hide the small smile that came from knowing that James was truly a Potter.


	2. Regulus Black

Hope Lupin shifted uncomfortably through the dark interior of the Leaky Cauldron. The eyes that followed her from behind their glasses of Firewhiskey, hidden under low pointed hats and greasy hair, knew she wasn’t magical folk, but didn’t turn her way. Her son who seemed to have already hit an incredible growth spurt, seemed more familiar with the pub and led the way with her hand in his, trying to act as natural as possible to avoid the questioning stares. It wasn’t very easy. A Muggle insurance consultant dressed in bright yellow shift dress and her scarred, sickly son were not exactly a sight that could slip by a crowd of witches and wizards.  
Remus ducked his head lower, in embarrassment until they finally reached the back of the pub. Still clutching his mother’s hand—more because she was nervous, he took out his wand and tapped the bricks lightly. Instantly, they started to shift away to reveal an arch that opened to Diagon Alley, a street filled with magical shops. The loud chatter travelled through the entrance as witches and wizards passed them, absorbed in finding school supplies for their children.  
“Ready, mum?” Remus asked, “I promise you’re going to love it.”  
Mrs. Lupin smiled excitedly and nodded. She had not gone with Remus to get his school list last year because she was out of town, but this timed she insisted, assuring her husband that he could stay home to work. She adored the fact that she had found a window to the Magical Community by chance. All the monster books that Remus owned were his mother’s, when she had been fascinated by the supernatural growing up, but she eventually gave up her fantasies to work in an insurance office. Fate gave her a second chance when she encountered a Boggart in the woods and was saved by one Lyall Lupin, who she fell in love with.  
They stepped beyond the arch and into the raucous street. She let go of Remus’s hand for a second to look around at every shop and face near her, completely stunned with awe and animation. She turned around just in time to see her son being tackled to the ground from behind.  
“REMUS!” she shrieked.  
“SIRIUS!” Remus yelled, half to get him off of him, but mostly out of excitement to see him again.  
“Happy eightieth birthday, you moron,” Sirius hugged him, “Were you planning on inviting me to your party?”  
“I’m sorry!” he pleaded, but was laughing too much to give a genuine excuse.  
Mrs. Lupin rushed towards the two boys who had tripped an entire wizarding family because Remus wouldn’t stop hugging his friend mercilessly on the dirty cobblestones. His mother pulled them both up frantically and sighed in relief. The boy who had tackled him was looking at the top of Remus’s head curiously, trying to figure out whether or not he had gotten taller.  
“Don’t do that to me, Sweetheart,” she said to him, putting her hand on her chest.  
“Sorry, mum,” he said and then put his arm around his friend, “This is Sirius. I’ve told you about him, remember?”  
“Oh, this is Sirius now,” a knowing smile crossed her face.  
Sirius looked down at her bright Muggle dress that stood out like a sore thumb in Diagon Alley and cringed, glancing behind him. He saw his mother, Walburga Black, and his younger brother crooning over the owls outside the Magical Menagerie. They hadn’t even noticed that he had run off. Hopefully, it stayed that way.  
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lupin,” he turned back and held out his hand, “Can I, er, tag along? I’ve already got all my things and I haven’t seen Remus in ages.”  
She shook it amusedly, “Not a problem, Angel. Your parents don’t mind?”  
“Oh, they’ll survive without me,” he shrugged.  
She laughed a little, “Well, I don’t want to seem like I’m kidnapping you. Where are they? Let me say hello.”  
On a list of Bad Things That Should Never Happen, Sirius considered the number one thing to be letting a Muggle he liked, especially the mother of his best friend, talk to a member of his family. It was sort of a lottery every time his mother interacted with people who weren’t Pure-Bloods—sometimes she just ignored them, sometimes she spewed the foulest words from her mouth, one time she even hexed a Half-Blood.  
He took Remus’s arm off his shoulder and looked around desperately for a solution. He didn’t want Mrs. Lupin to think he was rude by downright refusing to introduce her to his parents, but he knew it would be an incredible mistake to tell the truth. The answer suddenly emerged from the crowd as he saw James Potter walking with his mum and dad.  
“Hang on,” Sirius said, “I’ll get them.”  
He ran up to the couple, immediately taking Grace Potter by the hand and dragged them to Hope Lupin. James had begun to utter a greeting, but Sirius was too involved with his clever plan. He noticed where Sirius was dragging his mother and his eyes widened. Remus’s stomach dropped—he couldn’t tell whether it was with fear or delight.  
“My mum and dad,” he presented to her, much to the Potters and Remus’s confusion, “My brother, James.”  
James had not even heard this introduction as he had already leapt on Remus and was both squeezing him to death and reprimanding him for not keeping in touch. Remus was trying to laugh, but he couldn’t really breathe in the tangle of James limbs. Sirius was watching the adults’ interaction too carefully to even notice the suffocation of Remus.  
“Nice to meet you,” Mr. Potter said after a long awkward silence, “Podric, and this is my wife Grace. I see you’ve already met our…well, imaginative son.”  
“Hope Lupin,” she announced happily, shaking both of their hands.  
“Lupin?” Grace said courteously, “Oh, wasn’t your husband in the paper recently?”  
She looked a little dazed, “The—the paper? Which—Oh, the wizard one. The, um—”  
“Daily Prophet, mum!” came a muffled reply from Remus, who still apologizing to James just to get out of his hold.  
“I love your dress, by the way,” Mrs. Potter chimed, trying to disperse Hope’s nervousness.  
She blushed and touched the hem of the dress, “Oh, this old thing! Thank-you! I love your…your, um, robes?”  
“JAMES, BLOODY HELL!” Remus exclaimed as his friend finally let go of him.  
“Remus! Watch your language!” Hope scolded him.  
James had somehow managed to pull Remus’s sweater over his head so that he was tangled in his own clothes, much to his friend’s amusement. He and Sirius were chuckling loudly as he flopped his lanky limbs around trying to pull it down. When he got free at last, he smirked at them thinly and they knew he was going to get them back terribly.  
Podric laughed to himself, “Tell you what, you two trouble-makers have all your things, why don’t you help Remus get his? Hope, we’d love to show you around. Perhaps a drink?”  
James and Sirius nodded in avid agreement. They still had to find Peter and it would take at least three of them to conjure a plan to get him away from his hawk-eyed mother. Hope looked a bit unsure, but Remus caught on.  
“I’ll be fine, mum,” he assured her, “I really will be.”  
She sighed and then smiling stroked his cheek affectionately. The adults went off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron while their children stood on their toes, anxiously waiting for them to disappear from sight. The second Podric’s grey head of hair vanished in the arch, James leapt up enthusiastically and craned his neck around.  
“Any of you see Peter?” he asked.  
They all began searching the crowds for a small, plump boy, but instead Sirius locked eyes with his brother and regretted it the instant it happened.  
“Oh, Merlin,” he moaned as he began to make his way over.  
Remus and James followed his frustrated glare and saw the boy. His face was a lot more babyish than Sirius’s, but he sported the same handsome black hair and neatly-worn clothes. He seemed a little miserable, but as Sirius once said, most members of the Black bloodline suffer from Resting Gloomy Face so they always looked like they were in a terrible mood.  
“Mother’s gone looking for you,” he stated quite coolly.  
“Why would she leave you alone to look for something like me?” he retorted instantly.  
Remus cleared his throat and stepped in front of Sirius, “Hi, I’m Remus.”  
He held out his hand and his brother stared at it as if it was covered in Bubotuber pus. James’s frown began to deepen as the seconds went by, trying to figure out exactly was Sirius’s brother’s damage was. He had only known them for five seconds, but he was one to form impressions quickly. He looked back up at Remus and he smiled at him.  
“Regulus Arcturus Black,” he announced haughtily, taking his hand after a while.  
James turned away in a coughing fit, trying to mask his laughter, but Remus still shook hands with him politely. Sirius just rolled his eyes at his brother. He was the favourite child of his parents, every last hair on his head. He was proud to announce his full name and had committed all the Pure-Blood family names to memory. Why an eleven year old boy would want to spend his youth being his parents’ work of art, Sirius had absolutely no answer. He wasn’t bothered that Regulus was the better son because it meant that less pressure was put on Sirius to turn into something he wasn’t. The existence of his brother made his parents give up on trying to teach him the ways of the Noble House of Black.  
“Mother is looking for you,” Regulus repeated to Sirius.  
“Want to join us, Regulus?” James asked, as Sirius looked at him alarmed, “We’re going to buy some dungbombs at Gambol and Japes.”  
“Why would I want to buy dungbombs?” he asked frigidly.  
James felt his jaw drop completely open and his heart sink into his shoes. Sirius’s brother had to be the lamest person he had ever met, and he knew Severus Snape. At least Severus reacted to him. James felt like he was talking to a literal brick wall. Sirius rolled his eyes again, taking James by the elbow.  
“Come on, let’s go find Pettigrew,” he mumbled and then looked at Regulus, “Tell Mother I’m cavorting with the pixies and might be home late for supper.”  
With that snide comment, he led James away from his brother and Remus reluctantly followed after giving Regulus a nod. He stood plastered to the floor where they had left him.  
They met up with Peter outside of Flourish and Blotts where he was inspecting his books while his mother spoke to the owner. He was paging through The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Two when Sirius jumped from out a potted plant nearby him and he almost fainted with fright.  
When he had recovered and noticed that Remus was with him, he shook his hand politely. He was equally as glad to see him after so long, but he wasn’t really for throwing his friend around in excitement and Remus was more than relieved. In more ways than one, Peter helped keep the gang a little calmer, a little saner.  
“Hopefully, this year will be more normal,” Peter sighed, tucking the spell book under his arm.  
“Normal is for the weak!” James chirped, “Plus, I’ve already found us something exciting.”  
Peter didn’t even have the energy to turn pale anymore. He just sighed and grinned, knowing that to be friends with Sirius and James was like being friends with a pack of Exploding Snap cards. James produced The Daily Prophet cut-out from his pocket.  
“What is it?” Sirius moved closer.  
“There’s this shack in Hogsmeade,” he whispered so that Mrs. Pettigrew wouldn’t hear, “Apparently—”  
“No,” Remus suddenly interjected, “No. No, we’re not doing that.”  
They were all taken aback by his sureness.  
James shrugged, “Look, Rem, I know your dad told you how dangerous it is, but I mean… come on?”  
“I’m, er, going to get my books,” he put his hands in his pockets and walked towards the entrance of Flourish & Blotts.  
“Okay?” said Sirius, frowning.


	3. Belt Wars

Peter waved goodbye to his mother one last time from the window of the Hogwarts Express. She stood next his squat, mustached father and waved anxiously back on Platform 9 ¾. He had inherited her nerves, but not her stoic calmness so his lip quivered a little. Peter wasn’t like James who self-sure enough to battle his way through boarding school, nor like Sirius who hardly considered himself a member of his family. He missed his parents from day one and he missed his home a lot.  
Reluctantly he peeled himself away from the window and fell down into the seat with a sigh. A couple of students were running past their compartment window, anxious to find their friends or the Honeydukes Express Trolley. Across from him sat James Potter who was unapologetically chewing on some Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, loudly smacking his mouth. Peter watched him lean forward and give him an affectionate punch on the leg.  
“Cheer up, Peter,” he grinned, “It’s the start of the school year!”  
“We’re not going to be dueling magical creatures again, are we?” he mumbled.  
James sat back and shrugged, “Well, maybe in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but they did send a letter saying the beast trouble was over.”  
He groaned into his hands and sunk lower into the seat. Last year the four of them had faced possibly every magical creature imaginable, despite only being first years, and nearly died doing it. Of course, it was really James, Sirius and Remus who fought the beasts off—as per usual Peter spent his time largely wetting his pants and freezing in fright. He sunk even lower into the seat. He couldn’t figure out why they were friends with him.   
He didn’t have any excellent talents, he wasn’t bright or brave, Peter wasn’t incredibly funny. This made him miss being home even more. As much as he loved having friends and that his friends were most popular students in their year, Peter felt somewhat useless next to them. He wanted to pretend that he thought he was on their level and just happened to turn out to be a coward, but he always knew that his three best friends were carved from a different rock than him. A soft punch landed on his leg again and made him peer through his fingers.  
“You alright?” asked James, frowning.  
Peter sat up quickly and nodded. Before he could explain himself, Remus pulled the compartment door open and sat down next to Peter with his owl, Chigley, on his lap. James’s owl chirped a hello to Chigley and he responded merrily.  
“Hello, Remus,” Peter beamed and Remus returned it with a polite smile.  
“Want some?” James tossed the gum towards him and he caught it.  
“Merlin, I’ve been craving Drooble’s,” he sighed as a cherished more than chewed.  
James chuckled at the sight of Remus closing his eyes and enjoying a piece of gum as if it were Dragon Milk Cheese.   
“Oh, right, you live in a Muggle town, don’t you?” James remembered, “That’s awful. No flying, no chocolate frogs… What do Muggles even do?”  
Remus just shrugged, “I don’t really get out much, but they have a lot of good TV shows.”  
James looked at Peter curiously and then asked, “Tee-Veesho’s?”  
“Yeah,” said Remus quite surprised, “You know about television, right? Shows on the TV?”  
When James face didn’t even give a hint of recognition, Remus burst out laughing. He almost swallowed his gum and Peter had to vigorously pat him on the back to stop him from choking.  
“Wait, you’ve never heard of Clangers? Play Away?” he sat forward now, completely amused with the young wizard, “Have you heard of BBC?”  
James tried to string a sentence together in his head, but he had absolutely no idea what Remus was asking him. Peter stifled a giggle behind his hand as the grin on Remus’s face grew. It paid off being half-blood because half-bloods never had the look of other-worldly bewilderment plastered on their faces the way James had at that moment.  
“Incredible,” Remus laughed, “I have to show you sometime!”  
Sirius slipped into the carriage just then, and Remus turned to him almost immediately.  
“Have you heard of the BBC?” he challenged.  
The boy was a little taken aback. It wasn’t exactly like any other greeting he expected.  
“Oh, er, that’s a Muggle thing, isn’t it?” he looked around nervously like he was in an exam, “They like do Muggle entertainment and news. I think.”  
“How did you know that?” James was in awe.  
Sirius scanned the three faces. Again, he wasn’t expecting to walk into a fully-fledged conversation about TV. They had to be playing some kind of joke on him.  
“I read Remus’s Muggle magazines?” he said tentatively.  
Remus and James suddenly burst into an energetic debate about how little wizards knew about the Muggle world and whether it was necessary, while Sirius stood there awkwardly beginning to realize that it was not a prank and that his friends were genuinely arguing about the BBC. He caught Peter’s eye desperately, but he just shrugged with laugh on the edge of his lips.  
“How can you not know Fleetwood Mac?” cried Remus.  
“Why should I?” defended James, “Was he like the king of someplace?”  
“I can’t believe you!” Remus nearly pulled his hair out.  
“I don’t even know half of the wizards in my history, how am I supposed to know Muggles too!”  
“Okay, what about Monty Python?”  
A deafening crack caught their attention. Sirius had taken off his belt and whipped it on the side of the carriage in an effort to get them to stop. He was pink-faced from yelling and not being heard. The train threw them all back into their seats as it started with a jerk.  
“Are we replacing talking with loud noises?” James laughed and took off his belt, thrashing it against the seat, a hair away from Peter.  
“This is going somewhere, isn’t it?” Remus asked.  
Sirius hit Remus playfully on his legs, but it still stung an incredible amount. He squealed, but before he could get Sirius back he had fled outside of the compartment, so he settled on pelting James across the shoulders with his own belt.  
“But we have wands!” Peter cried as he crawled out of the compartment, missing Remus’s belt by a second.  
They all dashed out into the corridor, sprinting after each other. Students jumped at the loud cracking sounds echoing all around the train. In between the dodging and the whipping, the boys hardly noticed the amount of people trying to stop them.   
James was accidentally hit in the face by Peter, but laughed it off and chased the screaming boy down. Sirius knocked down two first years, trying to get away from Remus. James was by far the most hit player of the game, even earning one smack from Sirius squarely on his bottom and yelping loudly.  
They slid under every prefect’s legs and emerged on the other side to continue chasing each other. Everyone around them was diving out of the way to avoid becoming collateral damage. The Honeydukes Trolley tipped over when Peter tried to jump over it and misjudged its height.  
“Pertrificus Totalus!”  
Betram Aubrey, a Gryffindor prefect, finally managed to put a full body bind on Remus and then James, while Two Ravenclaw prefects caught Sirius. Peter surrendered immediately after they had been disarmed of their belts. Aubrey reversed the jinx once they were all escorted back to their compartment.  
“I’m locking you four in,” he growled, “and standing guard outside this door.”  
James stuck out his tongue.  
“Mocking me isn’t going to stop you from getting a detention, Potter.”  
He slammed the door shut and they watched him lock it with his wand. The boys resumed rubbing patches of red, stinging skin while laughing at each other.  
“Upping our standards, lads,” James declared while clutching his left arm, “Last year we got detention on the first night. This time we’ve gotten detention before we’ve even gotten to Hogwarts.”  
Sirius giggled, “Next year, we should get detention in the holiday, mate.”  
Peter frowned and pulled his pants up a little higher, “How are we supposed to keep our trousers up if they’ve confiscated out belts?”  
The four of them looked down at their legs, then at each other and burst out laughing. It was great being back together again. Remus’s laugh was the most genuine of them all—for him, it felt like a lifetime since he had laughed like that. He was on the verge of forgetting how happy his friends made him when the holiday ended just in time.  
Peter’s glumness about getting detention soon lifted as they talked excitedly about the year to come. They didn’t exactly want the mortal peril that they experienced last year, but the wondered what adventure they’d find in the Hogwarts castle.

The train came to a stop and the students filed out of the doors. The first years were greeted by a large, hairy young man with a lantern, beckoning them to him and were led towards a path to the boats like little ducklings. The other years stood around and chatted a little before the groups headed off in another direction one by one.  
James, Sirius, Remus and Peter were initially excited about not having to be escorted to the castle, but they found themselves gloomily surrounded by a ring of prefects who didn’t trust them one bit.  
“Mr. Lupin,” a tall witch greeted Remus and then noticed all the prefects.  
It was at this moment that Sirius widened his stance, Peter turned his face away and James was pilfering his brain for excuses. They were about to have it. The witch that stood in front of them was Professor McGonagall, the head of the Gryffindor house. Her thin face was lit threateningly by the lantern she was carrying at shoulder-height. She head tilted to one side as she made sense of the situation.  
“We caught them hitting each other with belts and knocking over…well, everything, trying to chase each other,” Aubrey sneered at James.  
Peter’s eyes were shut as tight as the possible could be. McGonagall’s silence was torturous.  
“My office,” she stated coolly after a long while, “after the feast.”  
They exchanged surprised glances. They were expecting their hearing to never be the same again after McGonagall was done with them.  
She cleared her throat, “There’s no need to escort these boys to the castle, Bertram. I’m sure they are quite capable of not causing any further trouble. Mr. Lupin, you are to come with me. Professor Dumbledore would like to have a word with you before the feast.”  
James, Sirius and Peter all turned to Remus automatically. He gave no verbal confirmation that he had heard Professor McGonagall nor did he nod at all. His head was ducked low against his chest as he trudged after her without even acknowledging his friends.  
“What was that?” James whispered to Sirius.  
He shrugged half-heartedly.   
Bertram was about to object to McGonagall’s orders when she disappeared with Remus into the darkness. The prefects stalked off with low growls and scathing looks.   
The boys shuffled their way to the Thestral-drawn carriages, kicking stones between them. They got into a half-full carriage and they greeted Caradoc Dearborn, a pimply blonde fourth-year, when they got in.  
“Well, if it isn’t Hogwarts’ Most Wanted,” he sniggered from behind his Daily Prophet, “I reckon at least one of you will end up on the front page of the Prophet, holding up an Azkaban board.”  
“Sounds glamourous,” Sirius retorted.  
“Hey, Caradoc,” James beamed as he climbed into the carriage, “Know when Quidditch trials are happening?”  
He lowered the newspaper, “You, James Potter, want to play Quidditch?”  
“Yes,” he frowned, “I’ve been practicing all summer.”  
“Me too!” Peter lied.  
He smirked at them and then carried on reading, “I don’t know. Ask Cierco, she’s Captain this year.”  
James rolled his eyes and wondered if he would be as difficult when he became a teenager. They were harder to figure out than some magical creatures.


	4. The End of Scolding

The boys sat down near the back of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. The other House tables, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, were also beginning to fill up so that there were now only a couple of seats left for the first years who would eventually fill them.  
Peter looked up and around at the gloomy enchanted ceiling. It looked like it was on the verge of snowing, but it was still much too early for that. It felt like only the other day that he was the one who sat under the Sorting Hat with it whispering that he belonged in Slytherin, with Peter objecting strongly because he had heard James Potter bad-mouthing Slytherin students on the train. He remembered the embarrassing remarks about him being the first Hatstall in a long time, to which he just ducked his head lower and pretended not to hear. He was still quite adamant that he wouldn’t fit in Slytherin—he wasn’t very traditional and he didn’t really believe in the whole pureblood thing, being a half-blood himself.  
James’s stomach growled loudly.  
“Can’t they just be sorted all at once?” he moaned.  
“Is it just me or are those girls looking at us?” Peter leaned over to James and Sirius.  
They looked up and saw a couple of Hufflepuff girls giggling behind their hands and stealing glances at the boys. James and Sirius pulled their faces at the sight of them.  
“Girls are weird,” James said as his mouth curled downwards.  
“You can say that again,” Sirus watched them whispering to each other blushingly.  
The first years appeared at the entrance of the Great Hall and began to shuffle towards the front in a line. Regulus Black was the only student who seemed to be neither chattering with nerves nor bounding with excitement. Sirius met his brother’s gaze from all the way down the Gryffindor table and turned away promptly.  
If anyone had asked him whether he wanted Regulus to be sorted into Gryffindor, he wouldn’t know how to respond. His brother was the favourite child—he fitted in with the family—so naturally they weren’t very close, but their relationship wasn’t all misery. Regulus wanted to be just like his big brother growing up, but the more Sirius rebelled against their parents the bigger the distance grew between them. He grinned thinly at the idea of his parents having to deal with two children sorted into Gryffindor, and promptly decided that it would be very nice indeed if Regulus was sorted into his House.  
Remus snuck in just as everyone applauded when the Sorting Hat was pulled out. He found his way to his friends, who had naturally kept a seat for him, and sat down quietly.  
“Did I miss the song?” he whispered.  
“Nope,” grinned James.  
They all craned over the taller students to see better when Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on a small stool in the front of the Great Hall. When all the students had settled down, a terse voice sounded from the Hat:

“Fine witches, fine wizards have from this castle come,  
And though they are best when put together as one  
Diff’rent voices, diff’rent tunes they have all sung.  
Four Houses of Hogwarts make up the poised choir.  
Gryffindor conducts, with their passionate fire  
Ravenclaw of wit, there is none who sing higher  
Earthy Hufflepuff is the low notes and foundation  
Slytherin aims for their standing ovation  
Combined these voices are Hogwarts tradition  
Brave and bright!  
Loyal and upright!  
Let me sort you with those of your sight!”

The Great Hall echoed with students clapping when the Sorting Hat had finished. McGonagall pulled out a long piece of parchment, clearing her throat to announce the names. James’s stomach growled again.  
“Acerus, Cassandra!”  
A very petite girl hopped onto the stool and the Hat was barely on her head for a second.  
“Hufflepuff!” it shouted and the House table roared with cheer.  
“Cresswell, Dirk!” McGonagall announced.  
The Sorting Hat was placed on a mass of sandy hair and took a reasonable amount of time, considering the options for Dirk.  
“Ravenclaw!” it finally said.  
Remus nudged Sirius in the side. His brother was next in line. He didn’t know why he did it, perhaps because he wanted his brother to have something in common with him more than he would admit, but he suddenly clutched Remus’s bony elbow with force.  
“Black, Regulus!”  
The Sorting Hat was set on his brother’s head and Sirius dared not blink. A full minute went by without a word from the Hat. Regulus sat completely still with no expression on his face, as if he was just waiting for the dentist. Three minutes passed, and Remus then had to grab Sirius’s wrist to prevent him from crushing his arm.  
“Please, Gryffindor,” Sirius whispered to himself, “Gryffindor, Reg. Choose Gryffindor.”  
He locked eyes with his brother in the fourth minute and Sirius saw that he knew what House he was about to be placed into. He let go of Remus’s arm and feigned staring at one of the candles like he was bored out of is mind.  
“Slytherin!” the Sorting Hat declared.  
The Slytherin table burst into applause, especially because a number of cousins and distant relatives occupied the House. When the cheering died away, McGonagall resumed reading through the list. It seemed like an especially thin year for Gryffindor who gained the least amount of first years of the four Houses.  
Dumbledore rose calmly with a pleasant smile on his face. James’s stomach rumbled so loudly that even the Slytherin table had heard.  
“Well, we have to do something about that,” Dumbledore said and clicked his fingers, “Tuck in!”  
The Start-of-Term feast emerged out of plain sight onto the table and James needed no further invitation. He piled mashed potatoes and gravy onto his plate with four lamp chops, scoffing it down in four minutes and then going for seconds.  
“Not hungry, Sirius?” he asked with his cheeks bulging with Yorkshire pudding.  
“Yeah, maybe later,” he nodded.

 

With a clap of Dumbledore’s hands the dessert disappeared and silence fell throughout the Hall.  
“A couple of announcements,” he said, “Firstly, let us welcome our new member of staff, Professor Gregory Hokon, who will be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes this year.”  
A sturdy, but aged gentlemen got up on the far end of the table and took a very rehearsed bow. He had a constant grimace on his face as if he was smelling something bad and his posture was impeccable.  
“What d’you reckon?” Sirius whispered to Remus.  
Peter shivered, “Something tells me he’s a lot less into love than our last professor.”  
“Gregory Hokon?” Remus mumbled loud enough for all three of them to hear, “He’s an ex-auror, I think. He’s pretty famous because he tried to run for Minister of Magic, but didn’t get the vote.”  
They felt eyes on them and looked up to see Professor McGonagall’s arching her eyebrow directly at them. It was meant to warn them about talking, but it only reminded James of earlier.  
“Oh, what did Dumbledore want with you, Rem?” he asked.  
“He—I–I was going, I mean—we,” he fidgeted with his thumbs, “It—message for my dad.”  
“You really are quite a shocking liar,” James chuckled softly, “We have to do something about that.”  
“I’m not lying!”  
“I want to teach you two miracle words,” Sirius slung his arm around Remus’s shoulder, “All you have to say is: ‘It’s private.’”  
Remus pulled a sulking face at Sirius and they all turned back around to pay attention to Dumbledore, who had just finished talking about the dangers of putting bees in one’s socks. He flicked his half-moon glasses and all the students sat a little forward with interest. Whenever he flicked his glasses, a more serious announcement was about to be made.  
“All students are to note,” he said, “that a Whomping Willow has been planted on the Hogwarts grounds—no doubt you have all seen it already. I need not remind you all about the danger of the species and should anyone approach it, I offer no punishment. To approach a Whomping Willow will have its own punishment.”  
The whole Great Hall burst into a dozen conversations about the decision to plant a Whomping Willow inside of a school. Even McGonagall looked slightly touched by the announcement as if she had been trying to persuade Dumbledore from the idea for months.  
The Headmaster raised his hand and a silence settled on the students.  
“Please be calm,” he said softly, but firmly, “I assure you that all measures will be taken to ensure the safety of everyone.”  
Dumbledore paused. The expectant faces waited for more information, for a reason as to why the Headmaster had wanted a Whomping Willow.  
“Right then!” he beamed, “Off to bed! I look forward to the school year with all of you.”  
He stepped down from the podium and the students began shuffling to their feet, all chatting about the same topic.  
“What’s Dumbledore playing at?” Peter frowned, “A Whomping Willow? I might as well write my will.”  
“I’m sure he’s got a good reason,” Remus shrugged.  
“Yeah, he’s trying to weed out the reckless ones,” Peter scoffed.  
James and Sirius exchanged smug glances.  
“Oh, no,” Peter moaned as he noticed them winking at each other.  
They played leap-frog with each other up to McGonagall’s office which made them take twice as long as they normally would. Needless to say, Professor McGonagall was not impressed.  
They sat down quietly on the chairs placed in front of her desk. She usually had two chairs placed there, but over the last year she quickly learned that she would almost always need four chairs in her office. They always sat in the same order—perhaps because they were so frequently in her office that they had found a place carved out for them.  
Remus sat on the extreme left because he was always the last to enter, followed by Sirius who wanted to be as close to the door as possible, then James who sat directly in line with McGonagall’s own chair, and then finally Peter, on the right, whose chair was in an immaculate condition because he always sat on the edge of it.  
“Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin,” she studied them all, “Late for a disciplinary hearing.”  
“Dis-disciplinary hearing?” asked Peter.  
They all turned around and realized that Professor Dumbledore and the other three House Heads were present in the dimly lit office. The situation had taken a complete left turn. The boys had not expected that the situation would be so serious.  
“Sorry, Professor,” James pleaded through his smile.  
“We didn’t know,” Remus backed him up, “We thought it was, er, just a casual scolding.”  
“A CASUAL SCOLDING?” Professor Mcgonagall scolded.  
Dumbledore gave her a nod and she settled down, a little flustered. Professor Slughorn, the Head of Slytherin crossed his one leg over the other and folded his arms over his bulging middle.  
“So, boys,” he said as if they had popped in for a bit of tea, “We are aware that you physically and non-magically attacked each other on the Hogwarts Express and caused quite a commotion amongst the other students. Is this true?”  
“Well, we didn’t attack each other,” Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus nudged him, “…Professor.”  
“What would you then call,” Professor Sprout looked over at McGonagall, “whipping each other with belts?”  
They all blushed.  
“Professor Slughorn, Professor Sprout,” James explained, “It was just like old-fashioned Chase, but with, er, belts instead of tagging someone. We weren’t trying to hurt each other. If anyone had told us to stop, we would have.”  
“Except the prefects, naturally,” Professor Westenberg, the Muggle Studies Professor and Ravenclaw Head, muttered.  
“We were just messing about!” Sirius cried, feeling a jab in his side again, “…Professor!”  
Professor McGonagall rubbed her eyes like she had a headache. She didn’t have one headache, she had four. With a sigh, she turned her gaze on the Headmaster who was assessing the situation quite seriously.  
He cleared his throat, “I would like to make you aware that you may only attend three disciplinary hearings at Hogwarts and then I’m afraid expulsion will be necessary in the fourth.”  
“Three?!” James cried, “Three in seven years?!”  
James wondered how they were possibly expected to only get three hearings in their whole school career. They were pretty sure that this already was their third disciplinary hearing, but last year’s lectures were a bit of a blur. Professor Westenberg tried to mask his snicker behind a cough.  
“Understood, Professor,” said Sirius with a smirk, “You will no longer catch us doing anything.”  
“Is that supposed to be a threat, Mr. Black?” Professor Mcgonagall frowned.  
“Oh, no, I think it is a very sincere promise, Minerva,” Dumbledore said, quite knowing that it was not.


End file.
